


Sacrifice

by blackwolfmajik



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 16:15:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3698759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackwolfmajik/pseuds/blackwolfmajik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One-shot - Morrigan has a little chat with Alistair about his sudden decision after the Landsmeet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrifice

**Sacrifice**

* * *

There were more words, but she couldn't hear them through the roaring in her head.

_Duty._

_Heir._

Their meaning stabbed into her heart and shredded her soul, leaving her breathless and pale.

Alistair looked equally uncomfortable, his voice tightly controlled as he delivered the death knell of her hopes.

_You're joking. Please tell me you're joking…_

A dream. A nightmare, it had to be. He couldn't mean it. He couldn't possibly.

And then he was walking away, fleeing.

As he turned the corner, the dazed willpower that kept her standing evaporated.

To the alarm of her companions, the Grey Warden - terror of darkspawn, finder of Andraste's Ashes, liberator of the elves and maker of Kings - fainted.

* * *

"You _idiot_!" the witch's voice was scathing against his already raw nerves.

Alistair grimaced and clutched his mug tighter. "Leave off, woman."

"The greatest battle of your lives dawns tomorrow and you tear out the heart of your fellow Grey Warden?"

His reply was acidic. "It's not like you to care about silly things like emotions."

Morrigan's eyes burned with rage. "I care nothing for emotions, more for her state of mind. Yesterday she had the strength to win the war. Now, she wants nothing more than to die."

The ex-templar flinched.

"How well do you think she will fight tomorrow when she feels there is nothing to look forward to? You have felled her better than any sword!"

The tankard shattered against the wall, but Morrigan didn't flinch as he towered over her. "Do you think this is what I wanted? If it were up to me I would have married her long ago. If we were anyone else, we'd have a family and grow old together. But we're not anyone else. I have responsibilities as king, she knows that."

"Responsibilities?" the witch scoffed. "You are taking up the mantel of maturity, _now_? Since I have been a part of this merry band, you have been quite content to let her to make all of the decisions. Your timing for this epiphany is ridiculous."

Alistair growled, fury trembling his broad shoulders like an earthquake. "This is Ferelden's only hope."

"Some hope, when you tear each other up like mountain cats in a tent. Of all the times you could have left her, you had to choose now."

" _I had to do it now!_ If not now, I could never have done it. I love her more than anything else in this world, but—" Suddenly his rage collapsed in on itself and he slumped against the wall, broken. "Maker help me – we both have to do things that we hate for the greater good."

"'The Greater good'?" Morrigan's fury was not so easily spent, but the phrase made her stop short. Thoughtfully, her fingers caressed the gnarled oaken staff like pale spiders. The situation could be salvaged, but things would have to be handled carefully if Flemeth's original plan was still to succeed.

Alistair was too wrapped up in his own misery to notice the witch bite her lip.

"I would have done anything for her," he whispered, looking at the calluses on his hands as if they held the answer to his prayers.

Golden eyes peered at him wolfishly in the dark. "You may still get your chance."


End file.
